The Queen's Labor
by Ally612
Summary: The happiest days are when babies come. Of course, for Sarah, it's not all sunshine and rainbows. In the Underground, there is no such thing as an epidural.
1. The First

"Push, Your Highness," the midwife practically snarled. "Push, now!"

The exhausted woman on the bed almost snarled in return, however, was soon swept away by a wave of agony. "I am," she wailed, "I am!"

The midwife's lip curled derisively. "If you do not push, _I will make you_."

The woman sponging off the forehead of the laboring woman muttered prayers under her breath. It was going to be a difficult birth, then. The woman was quite thin, tiny even! Her hips before pregnancy had been miniscule at best. The Queen had been petite at her heaviest moments; her distended belly had quite looked out of place on her small frame in pregnancy! Marina muttered soothing words to the Queen, mopping her brow and stroking her hair.

Cursing, the midwife spread the woman's legs further apart. The delivering mother protested, before screaming in pain. Clearly, the baby was coming whether she pushed or not.

"I'll not ask you again, Sarah," the midwife said harshly. As the pain left her body, the expectant mother nodded. "On the next contraction, you must push. Do you understand?"

Tiredly, the dark-haired woman nodded once more. When she felt the pangs come again, she twisted her hands in the sheets and groaned.

"Push now!"

Gritting her teeth, suppressing a scream, Sarah obeyed. Sweat dripped down her back, pain flooded her senses, and a low keen reverberated throughout the room.

"Breathe, girl. Two more, I think."

"Two," Sarah moaned. As the pain returned once more, she moaned in discomfort. Her head roaring, she barely heard the midwife's instructions to push.

And push, she did. For a moment, the pain ceased and she felt something emerge from between her legs. The midwife stepped away for a moment. And that was when she heard it, the wail of a nany. Her face softened and all thoughts of contractions and pain and killing her good-for-nothing husband left her mind.

"Let me see," she cried, "let me see my baby!"

"One moment," the midwife said firmly, "I must clean the babe to present him to the father."

"Rubbish," Sarah cried, "it's my baby too; give the child to me," she commanded the woman imperially, "now."

After sponging the wailing infant clean, the midwife showed the eager mother her daughter. The midwife hesitated for a moment, glancing at the door. _The father should be the one to see the babe first, _she thought guiltily, _but the Queen's word is law._

"Your daughter," she presented, "congratulations are in order, Madam."

The graying woman handed over the infant to her mother, delicately placing the girl in the mother's arms. Exiting the room, she did not spare a glance to the Queen and Princess, currently bonding for the first time. It was time to alert the King; Marina would deal with Queen Sarah and her child.

---

"Hello," Sarah whispered, feeling elated and stupid at the same time, "I'm your mommy."

She had not expected the rush of love and joy, that had overcome her then. For nine months she held this little girl under her heart, praying time would hasten the arrival, longing to hold her child in her arms. And here she was, perfect, healthy, beautiful! She sniffled and tears threatened to fall. For moments, she could only stare at her daughter in disbelief. Finally, her little girl was here!

Marina smiled down at the Queen, looking at the new Princess. "You did wonderfully, Highness."

"Thank you," Sarah replied, too engrossed in her daughter's sweet face to even look up, "you were a great help, Marina."

Marina could see that Sarah was distracted by her daughter and said nothing more. Bowing out of the room, she went to tell the servants of the new princess. She closed the door softly, looking back at Queen Sarah and her new daughter fondly.

---

"I'm your mommy," she whispered again, hesitantly trying out the phrase. "And you're my baby girl, and we are going to—"

But she was cut off. The door burst open and a frazzled man came through.

"Sarah," he cried passionately, "are you alright? How is the child? Is everything alright?" Jareth's normal composed face was white with anxiety, his calm eyes darting to her exhausted form on the large bed.

"Yes," she smiled tearfully, "I'm alright. Come here, Jareth. Come and see our daughter."

The King made his way to the bedside, leaning over his beaming wife. In her arms, a tiny bundle, swaddled in pink, lay contently.

"My daughter," Jareth said with wonder. For nine months, he had known of course, that Sarah was expecting a child, but it had never been so vividly real. He had not expected the tiny little girl that slept quietly, her little fists clenching and unclenching in her slumber. "We have a daughter," he whispered, overcome with emotion.

Sarah looked worried, her green eyes swam with tears, "Are you disappointed," she asked him, "that she is not a son?"

Jareth looked down at his child, nay, his daughter and smiled at his wife. "Of course not," was his vehement reply, "she's perfect."

"Oh," Sarah started with a smile, "I was hoping you'd say that. Tamsin told me you'd want a boy."

"The midwife doesn't know what she's talking about," he dismissed.

"Do you want to hold her?" Sarah looked up at her husband, who suddenly looked a trifle panicked.

"She is so tiny," he looked doubtful, "I would break her." Sarah just laughed. Jareth looked affronted at her giggling.

He fixed a jokingly stern stare on her. "I'll have you know, queen of my heart, that I am quite strong."

"Nonsense," she cried, "I trust you." Sarah carefully placed her daughter in Jareth's arms, adjusting his arms to support their daughter's head. Carefully, he stared at the infant in his arms. "Oh Sarah," he sighed, "thank you."

"What should we name her?" Sarah asked, settling herself into the pillows behind her, closing her eyes for a moment of well-deserved rest. Her muscles protested all movements and she winced at the soreness between her thighs. Her husband was the Goblin King, he could turn himself into an owl, yet no magic was allowed on a delivering mother. _It could alter the child!_ What utter nonsense, not for the first time, she regretted the loss of medical wonders of Aboveground, like epidurals and Advil.

"We always assumed she would be a boy." All the superstitions and myths pointed out that their firstborn would be a male. 'Sarah had carried her like a boy,' 'the Seer had predicted a male,', 'her morning sickness indicated a boy,' 'her radiance suggests a son'. Well, Sarah would delight in presenting everyone her baby girl.

"Do you like the name Tatiana?" He questioned his wife, his eyes never leaving his daughter's tiny face. Sarah wrinkled her nose, looking down at her daughter and back up at her husband.

"Jareth, we are _not_ naming our daughter after your mother."

He smiled at her, "Sarah, you labored for seventeen long hours, I believe you deserve the honors of naming our daughter. In fact, you may name _all_ of our daughters." Jareth finished magnanimously, smiling down at his tired wife. "I shall name our sons."

For a moment, Sarah thought about that. She held out her arms, receiving the small girl happily. Crossly, she looked up at her smiling husband. "You're assuming that I'm willing to do _that_ all over again."

He teased her in return, keeping a blank face. "But of course! Until the Kingdom has a male heir, you'll continue to bear my children!"

Scowling, she resolutely thought only about her daughter's name. Another baby? She really had no desire to think of that at the moment. Finally, she sighed and smiled. "Catharina," Sarah smiled, thinking about how perfect her daughter was.

"That is a beautiful name," Jareth said quietly, "for a beautiful little girl."

The happy couple looked down at their new daughter, Catharina, and smiled beautifully. Jareth eased into the bed beside his wife, careful not to displace his weight and cause her discomfort. He took Sarah into his arms, letting her lean against his chest, stroking her hair.

"I love you," he whispered into her cheek, "I love you so much. I love our daughter. Thank you."

Sarah smiled tiredly, "I love you too." She kissed her daughter's forehead, cradling the child to her chest. "And I love you, Cate."

Content, the King and Queen of the Goblins lay with their daughter, happily basking in the joy of parenthood. Just as Jareth began to nod off, Sarah poked him.

"We're going to wait at least two years before trying for our little Prince," she said seriously, looking him in the eyes. Jareth only laughed, bringing her closer to him, kissing her brow. "I mean it, Jareth," she said indignantly.

"Of course you do," he said with a twinkle in his eyes. "And you may tell my mother that when she visits tomorrow."

---

Just a little happy ending that I had to write for my favorite Goblin King and his Sarah.

_I don't own the Labyrinth, I only elaborate upon it._

_**Please drop a review!**_


	2. The Sixth

_Disclaimer:_

I do not own Labyrinth, nor do I make any sort of profit from this.

---

_Author's Notes:_

Here's a fun continuation that can be read on it's own or with the first chapter! Enjoy, and please, please, review.

---

"Sarah, I do not know what to say."

Wearily, she bushed her hair away from her sweat-soaked face. She pulled herself upright, ignoring his offers of help and protests at her movements so soon. She glared up at him.

"This is all your fault," she accused. "I cannot believe it's happened again."

"How could it possibly be my fault, though I hesitate to use those words in relation to our child," he started icily, "that we have another daughter?"

"Biology," she said triumphantly, "a man always determines the sex of the child."

There was a pause, then, "We seem to be running out of names," he remarked, not conceding her point.

"Really," she glared stonily, "really? That's what you're preoccupied with." Jareth winced, knowing that his wife's rant was only getting started. "You know that _lie_ that everyone says, how it gets 'easier' each time. How the pain 'lessens'," she smiled facetiously, "they lied." She massaged her temples, coldly staring at her husband, "Twelve hours of labor."

He smiled down at her, hoping to ease her anger, "Sarah, you did beautifully." He leant down to her, holding the sleeping bundle close to her face. "And another perfect daughter is the result!"

"Jareth," she said, her voice saccharine, "I already have _five_ daughters."

Arching an eyebrow in response, he responded, "And that makes her less special or perfect?"

"No," she objected, "you know what I mean!"

"Of course, darling," he dropped the matter, "now what to name her…"

"I don't know why you even ask," she said curtly, "after twelve hours of labor; I should get the privilege of naming our daughter."

Jareth chuckled, "As you wish, Sarah."

After a few moments, Sarah looked up and smiled. "What do you think of Julissa?"

Jareth wrinkled his nose in distaste, "Too juvenile for a princess," he dismissed, "perhaps as a second name."

Sarah frowned but conceded his point. Jareth usually had an objection to her first choice.

"Eve?"

"Absolutely not," he passionately replied, "after the woman who felled humanity in that silly book of yours with her gluttony and lack of spine? I think not!"

Sarah brightened, "Final offer, Ariella."

Jareth looked down at his newest daughter, her sleeping form cuddled into the crook of his arm. "Perfect," he said quietly, kissing the baby's forehead softly.

Sarah smiled, pleased with herself. "May I hold her now, Jareth?"

Reluctantly, Jareth released his daughter into his wife's arms. They made a beautiful picture. Sarah, worn out from childbirth, covered in sweat, was somehow more gorgeous than he'd ever seen her.

"Shall I have the girls sent in?"

"Of course," Sarah smiled, eager to see her children, "they need to meet little Ella!"

"Ella," he paused. "It will do for a knickername."

Sarah rolled her eyes. "It's nickname, Jareth. Knickername sounds dirty."

He frowned until he thought of a good parting shot.

"We'll try for a boy in a couple of months, eh?"

The pillow almost collided with his head, but her aim was a little off.

---

"Six princesses," Tatiana said bluntly, "six children." She looked at her daughter-in-law with a newfound, grudging, respect. After two days abed, she was already back on the throne, fulfilling her royal duties. It was hard for Fae women to conceive, most only produced one child in their lifetime. Sarah had produced six in fewer than twelve.

"Yes," Sarah replied with a small sigh, "six children."

"Remind me of their names," Tatiana requested, "my mind seems over fatigued with travel wearies."

Sarah ground her teeth quietly. This woman was her children's grandmother! She should know their _names_ for pity's sake. Even Karen knew Sarah's children's names and ages. She never failed to send a birthday wish, unlike Tatiana, who was busy with her lovers and fooling her husband into believing her fidelity.

"Catharina, my firstborn, is eleven this year. Next there's Elspeth, who is ten. Of course, there's Guinevere, whose birthday is tomorrow, she's turning seven. And then the twins, Sylvie and Linnea, who are three."

"Ah," she said distantly, "Guinevere is the one with the _problem_, yes?"

"Her leg was twisted when she was born," Sarah replied coolly, "There is no _problem_ with my daughter."

"Don't get angry," Tatiana said mildly, "they all look so much alike, I merely look for differences."

Sarah and Jareth's daughters _did_ look much the same. All were very fair and slight, favoring their mother, occasionally their father, in looks, though they all had different colored eyes. It did not help that two of her children were identical twins, with not so much as a freckle to distinguish their identities.

"Yes," Sarah said testily, "well, there is nothing wrong with my children."

"Of course not, dear," Tatiana said, humoring her daughter-in-law.

"Now," Sarah sighed, "if only I could have a son and satisfy this whole inheritance law mess."

"What mess?" Tatiana asked curiously.

Sarah looked at her impatiently, "A male heir is needed to inherit the crown, Tatiana."

"No, it's not," Tatiana responded with a laugh, "why my dear husband, Alistair, was only a consort!"

Sarah sat there for a moment, her mouth opening and closing, her fists rapidly clenching, and then, with a tight smile and gritted teeth, excused herself from the room.

She had a husband who was in very much need of a beating.

---

_La fin._

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